


Masturbation 4 (Lending a Friend a Helping Hand)

by FlyBoy



Series: McGarrett's Manual of Masturbation [4]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2011-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:28:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyBoy/pseuds/FlyBoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's the sequel to the sequel to the sequel, as requested. The guys finally finish talking and get down to some hands-on research.  And if embarrassment becomes an Olympic sport, the guys will win the gold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masturbation 4 (Lending a Friend a Helping Hand)

In retrospect, it may not have been the wisest idea that Danny ever had to suggest that they move from beer to tequila – especially when they had already put away something like a dozen beers between them, and had not eaten anything since breakfast. While Steve was a man of the world, his drinking experience was limited almost exclusively to beer. He had never had a taste for the harder stuff. As a result, the five tequila shots they had each knocked back took the feet right out from under the man – literally.

When McGarrett stood up to pee, the next thing he knew Danny Williams was looking down at him. "How did Danno get so tall?" he wondered to himself.

"You ok?" Danny asked from his seat.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're on the floor, for one."

"No, I'm not."

"Sorry, babe, but you are."

Looking around, honestly confused, he asked, "How'd I get on the floor?"

He tried to stand up only to realize that something he had done regularly for 30+ years was suddenly not so easy. He knew he had legs and feet, but they just weren't cooperating at the moment. Being the ever-loyal friend that he was, when Danny saw Steve having trouble he immediately came to his assistance.

While five hefty tequilas had literally floored Steve, Danny had had a bit more experience with hard liquor. Still, the human body could only metabolize alcohol at a certain rate, so at the moment Danny wasn't exactly a firm footing himself.

"We're closing. You guys are gonna have to call it a night," the bartender told them.

Danny looked up. "Huh?"

"Closing. Out. Now."

"Sure thing. We'll get right on that."

Steve looked at his friend who looked back at him. "I guess we need to head out. Let's get you up. Grab my hand," he instructed.

Steve did as told – and proceeded to pull Danny down onto the floor with him.

"That didn't work like I thought it would," Steve said.

"Ya' think?" Danny said.

Pulling himself back to his feet, Danny said, "Ok. Let's try that again." This time he held onto the table while simultaneously trying to pull his friend to his feet. While it wasn't the most graceful of moves it succeeded in getting Steve upright once again.

With a bit of wavering – all right, a good deal of wavering – but no stumbles, the two men finally made it to and then through the door. The parking lot was empty by that time since all of the sane men who worked for a living had gone home hours ago to get some sleep. The only two cars left belonged to the bartender and his bar-back.

"Damn! It's dark out here!" Danny noted. "How long were we in there?"

"I don't know. Fifteen, twenty minutes maybe."

"So where'd the sun go?"

"Somebody must a stol' it!" Steve said. "We need to investi … investi …"

"Gate?"

"Gate what?" Steve asked.

"Investigate."

"Investigate what?"

"Investigate who stole the sun."

"Hey, where'd the sun go?" Steve said with renewed concern.

The two men made it to the edge of the parking lot but halted there when Steve suddenly said, "I need to pee!"

"Let's go back into the bar …"

"No! We're men! Men can pee anywhere. We been peeing in the woods for years."

"No woods, babe."

"There's a parking meter. They're made out of wood, aren't they?"

"I don't think so."

"Doesn't matter – I've really gotta pee."

Danny was not operating at peak efficiency, but at least he had the sense to move the two of them off the sidewalk and into the shadows out of public view.

Leaning against a wall, Steve started to try to operate his zipper. The first step of grabbing the zipper tab was proving to be more challenging than he anticipated.

"Danny! My zipper's broke!"

"What'd you do to it?"

"Nothing! Danny! I gotta pee!"

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Danny said, "Hold still." His hands tried to find Steve's zipper. With some fumbling he found what he sought and managed to get the man's pants unzipped. The tequila was really hitting home at that point and his mind was so fuzzy that he didn't stop with just unzipping Steve's pants. Instinct was that if you unzip, you haul out your dick, so Danny reached into the opening and wrestled Steve's dick out of his underwear and into the open. Holding a fistful of McGarrett, Danny ordered, "Pee!"

"What if I don't have to?"

"Trust me, you do."

"Ok." And with little effort a stream like unto Niagara started to issue forth.

"Aaaahhhhhhh."

"Good?"

"Aaaahhhhh!"

"You part camel?"

"No. Why?"

"Hey! Watch the feet! Nobody gets to pee on my feet but me!"

Danny dutifully held onto his friend's dick while he continued to pee.

"Jesus, Steve! Where you been holding all that?"

"Told you I needed to pee!"

"I believe you, big guy."

"Aaaaahhhh."

Finally, the stream lessened and eventually finished.

"That was good, Danno. That was really good."

"Steve!" Danny said excitedly.

"What?"

"You've got a big dick!"

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"No. Is it bigger than yours?"

Danny leaned over to study the situation more carefully. "No. I'm a big guy."

"You are not! You're short!"

"Hey! Hey! Hey! I may not be super tall like you, but I'm big where it counts – below the belt!"

"Show me," Steve said.

"I don't have to pee."

"Damn!" Steve said in totally wasted frustration.

"Let's get home," Danny said with determination. He shoved McGarrett's dick back inside his pants but didn't even bother trying to work the zipper. The two men stumbled to the street and were somehow able to hail a cab without getting run over by the late night traffic.

Once inside the driver asked, "Where to guys?"

"Home," Danny answered definitively.

"That's nice. Where's home?"

"Where I live!" he answered with utter and absolute sincerity.

"You got a wallet?"

"Yes! I do!" Danny answered as he proudly pulled it out of his pocket and waved it around.

"Let me see it for a second."

"Ok." A sober Danny would never, ever have done such a thing. But good fortune was shining on them that night – they had an honest, ethical cab driver who simply looked in Danny's wallet for his license, got his address, and drove the two men directly there. When Danny tried to pay him $100 for the ride, the man politely told him no and exchanged the $100 bill for a $10 bill.

"Can you guys get up those steps ok?" he asked.

"We been rock climbing before – we can handle anything!" Danny said. "Although, you did fall and break your arm when we went rock climbing."

"Not gonna do that again," Steve said. "That hurt like a bitch!"

"I've never heard you admit that you feel pain like the rest of us mortals," Danny observed.

Never, ever – never, really, never! – in his wildest dreams was Danny prepared for the words that came out of his friend's mouth at that moment. With great flourish and theatricality, Steve recited:

"Hath not a SEAL eyes? Hath not a SEAL hands, organs,  
dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with  
the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject  
to the same diseases, heal'd by the same means,  
warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer  
as a civilian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?  
If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us,  
do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?  
If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.  
If a SEAL wrong a civilian, what is his humility?  
Revenge. If a civilian wrong a SEAL, what should his  
sufferance be by civilian example? Why, revenge.  
The villainy you teach me, I will execute,  
and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

Danny called a halt to their ascent and looked at his friend. " _What the fuck was that?_ "

"Shakespeare, my good man. Something we cultured people studied."

"Cultured, my ass!"

"Well, I don't know – I've never seen your ass – uncovered that is."

They resumed their ascent, but had difficulty working the lock on Danny's door. Their cab driver had not driven off yet, waiting to make sure his obviously drunk passengers made it inside without breaking themselves or anything else. He could have simply laughed but instead he dutifully climbed the stairs and unlocked the door for them, helping the two men make it inside the apartment.

"Oh, bed!" Steve said in excitement as he saw Danny's bed in front of him.

"No!"

"Why can't I sleep in your bed?" he asked with the biggest puppy dog eyes Danny had ever seen on the man.

"Get your clothes off first, you animal! And those boots! Especially those boots!"

Steve made a valiant attempt to undress himself, finally sitting back on the bed with an utterly perplexed look on his face.

" _Danno! Help! I'm stuck!_ " he said, his shirt over his neck but not off his face. Somehow the man also had his pants down around his ankles but had forgotten to take his boots off first so everything was stuck.

Danny knelt – with some difficulty – and untied McGarrett's boots, tugging the two heavy boots off his friend's feet.

"Jesus! These weigh a fucking ton! How do you carry them around all day long?"

"They're what I wear," he said simply.

Danny pulled the man's socks off his feet and then finished removing the pants. He yanked the man's briefs off his hips as well before standing – again with some difficulty – and getting the man's shirt removed as well.

"Steve!"

"What?"

"You still have a big dick!"

"I know that," he said.

"You got to pee before you go to bed?"

"Yes, please."

"Bathroom this time, please."

McGarrett made his way into the bathroom where it sounded like once again he really was part camel. Danny got his own clothes off, a little more efficiently than Steve had, but not by much.

When Steve returned to the main room of Danny's apartment, Danny was naked as well.

"Damn! Danno, you do have a big dick!"

"Hey, would I lie to you, big guy?"

"No!" Steve said decisively.

Danny took his turn in the bathroom before returning to the main room. The two men crawled into the bed, a bed that was too small for two grown adults, especially when one of those adults was Steve McGarrett. The two men automatically lay in bed so that they were facing each other. Given the size of the bed, they were separated by not more than an inch or two at most.

"What's with that goofy grin?" Danny asked his friend.

"I like you, Danny Williams."

"Why? I'm a mouthy, pushy, obnoxious pain in the ass."

"I know that. But you're my best friend. You make me feel good." Steve moved closer and kissed his friend, and his friend kissed him back.

 

* * * * * * *

 

The next morning neither man knew how it had started or who had started what, but they awoke with limbs entangled, dried cum all over their bellies and chests, and something incredibly greasy on both of their dicks.

Danny woke first, but only enough to realize that there was pain. Oh, yes, pain. Who let that person into his head with a sledgehammer, anyway? Oh, pain. Bad pain. Fuck! Pain. He moaned, which woke up his bed mate. He, too, wasn't feeling at his most spry and chipper.

"Ow," the man said simply, putting his hands over his face.

Perhaps thirty seconds passed with no further commentary before Steve was able to ask the obvious question. "Danno. Where are we? And why are we naked?"

"And in bed together," Danny added.

A few more seconds of consciousness along with some more data collection and Danny was ready to add more questions. "And why is there dried cum on my belly and chest?"

"Mine, too," Steve said once he had checked.

"And why is my dick sticky?"

Steve noticed that a tub of margarine was on the bed by his head. Picking up the container he looked at it, hoping to get some answers. All he ended up with were more questions.

"Danno, did we fuck?"

"If we did, we didn't have very good aim. And I don't think we did. At least my butt's not sticky – only my dick."

Steve checked his own side of the equation and had to agree. "Right. No fucking."

Untangling themselves, Danny tried to roll out of bed but only succeeded in making his head feel worse. When he made it to his feet he started toward the bathroom but stopped when Steve said, "Danno!"

"What?"

"Um…."

"What?"

"You've got something on your back."

"What is it?"

Steve rose and read the words painted on Danny's back with some kind of red paint. "Danny Williams' dick is bigger than …" Pause. "Oh fuck!" Pause. "Danny Williams' dick is bigger than Steve McGarrett's dick." He paused. "Oh fuck." Steve reached out his hand and tried to scrape some of the paint off his friend's back. "Uh, oh," he said softly.

"What?!" Danny demanded.

"It's not coming off."

"Why? Why would you write something like that on my back?"

"Why do you think I wrote it? I mean, what man would ever publicize the fact that some other guy's dick is bigger than his own?"

Danny had to agree, but it still didn't explain why the message was painted onto his body with what appeared to be indelible ink.

While Danny contemplated the mess, Steve headed into the bathroom. "Um, Steve?"

"What?"

"I'm not the only one with something on his body."

"Oh, fuck! What?" he asked.

Danny read the message painted onto Steve's back. "Steve McGarrett's dick is smaller than Danny Williams' dick."

"No!!"

"Yes!"

"Why did you ever paint that onto my body, man? Why?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Danny studied the words for a moment.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Steve announced before dashing into the bathroom. Thankfully he was not sick, but while there he did crawl into the shower and try to wash himself. He called Danny at one point, "Danny! I can't reach my back. Come scrub this off me, please!"

Danny stepped into the shower with a washcloth and set about trying to remove the big red letters from Steve's back.

"Uh, oh."

"No! No 'uh, oh'! You hear me?"

"I hear you. Please don't shout. My head hurts enough already."

"Why 'uh, oh'?"

"This isn't washing off. It's something like a combination of paint and magic marker."

"No! No!!!" After trying to look at his own back – never gonna work – Steve ordered Danny to turn around. He look the wash cloth and the soap and tried scrubbing his friend's back – vigorously.

"Hey! Hey! Leave a little skin, please!"

"It's not coming off," he said simply.

"I told you that! But did you listen to me? Nooooo." Danny grabbed the cloth and turned his friend around again. This time, though, his eyes went lower to McGarrett's ass. "Um, Steven?"

"Oh, God," the man said, knowing that when Danny called him "Steven" it was not a good sign.

"There's more."

Steve simply dropped his head forward, closed his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest. A moment later he asked, "What?"

"On your ass, in bright blue letters – half on the left, and half on the right: 'All that glitters is not gold, Often have you heard that told'. What is that? Do you know that is?"

Steve said nothing but nodded his head.

"Well?" Danny asked.

"Shakespeare," Steve answered. " _The Merchant of Venice_."

"Somebody else was quoting Shakespeare recently – I think. Who was it?" A sudden look of recognition caused Danny to say, " _It was you! You were saying something about SEALs having eyes!_ "

"But that still doesn't answer the question of who wrote these words on our bodies."

"Why does this bother you? You've got tattoos all over your body, anyway!"

"Those are ART! And they don't tell all the world that I've got a small dick!!!"

"You don't have a small dick! You've got a big dick."

"Thank you. But who's gonna believe me now unless I pull it out and wave it around in their faces?!"

"I'll tell everyone," Danny said.

"Oh, yeah! And _THAT'S_ gonna be _so_ much better. Then everyone is going to ask, 'Why, Danny, how do you know that Steve has a big dick?' And you'll say, 'Oh, because I've seen it and played with it! That's how.'"

"Ok. So not my best idea ever."

"Ya think?"

"Bite me, princess. Now get your red and blue spangled ass out of my shower," he said, giving Steve a shove.

"Hey!" Steve got even by taking the only towel available to dry off.

When Danny got out of the shower and discovered the lack of a towel he marched into the bedroom area and demanded his towel. A very naked Steve was looking around the room. "Where are my pants?" he asked.

"How the hell should I know." And then Danny started looking for his own clothes. "Hey, wait a minute. Where are … my … pants … shirt … shirts! … fuck!!! Where are all my clothes!?!"

"Um, Daniel, this could be a problem."

"No shit!"

After carefully searching the entire apartment (it wasn't that big), Steve and Danny came to the same conclusion – every article of clothing was gone.

"So what do we do now?"

"I say we go back to bed and hope that when we wake up next all of this will have just been a bad dream."

"Can't do that. We're already late for work," Steve said as he checked the one thing left that covered any part of his body – his watch.

Danny's phone chose that moment to ring – loudly – reminding him that his head really hurt.

"What?" he demanded as he answered the offending instrument by putting it on speaker – his head hurt too much to hold the thing anywhere close.

"Hey, Danny," Chin said. "So, we've got a question for you."

"What?"

"Why are all of your clothes here? And did you really pay a cab driver $100 to drive them over here saying that they didn't get out enough? And why are the bullets from both of your guns here with a note to return to you once sober?"

" _What_!?!?"

"And unless I'm mistaken, it looks like there's a pair of Steve's pants here, too. Yeah, no way these would fit you," he said, holding up a pair of Steve's cargo pants. "Wait a minute. Yep, these are Steve's – his wallet is in the back pocket. And here's his keys. And his badge." There was a pause accompanied by the sound of some shuffling. "Wait a minute. Danny, there's writing on the back of your shirt."

"Oh, fuck. No. Please, no. Dear God, no," Steve moaned.

"Was that Steve? Hey Steve," Chin teased his boss.

"What does it say?" Steve said somewhat meekly.

"Steve McGarrett's dick is smaller than Danny Williams' dick."

"Nooo!!!!" Steve's anguished voice begged.

"Hey, Danny! I'm pleased for you, bro," Chin said, "but why'd you write it on your shirt?" When Danny didn't answer, Chin checked out a theory. "Ok. There's more."

Danny whimpered.

"Steve's shirt has the following: 'Danny Williams' dick is bigger than Steve McGarrett's dick.'" Chin chuckled. "Must have been one hell of a night, guys. Next time it sounds like you should take an adult along to chaperone."

"There is never going to be a next time," Danny said, scrubbing the hand that did not hold the phone across his face. With conviction that would have made Scarlett O'Hara jealous, Danny said, "With God as my witness, I am never touching alcohol ever again for the rest of my life."

Chin laughed – discretely, a little more before asking the inevitable question: "How do you know that your dick is bigger than Steve's, or that Steve's is smaller than yours?"

"I have no idea."

"Liar."

"I hate you."

"Careful, bro. I seem to have all of your clothing here – and you really should edit your clothes – green pants? Really?"

"They were a gift from … oh, never mind."

Chin laughed, taking less care to be discrete this time. "And I'm not even gonna ask you about the leopard print jock strap."

"Thank you."

"Eh, what the hell. You already hate me, so what's with the leopard print jock strap?"

"Shut up. And bring our clothes over to my place."

"Do I hear a 'please' in that sentence?" Chin said.

"Please … bring … our … fucking …clothes … to … my … apartment."

"NOW!" Steve added.

"I'll think about it. Might take me a little while here. My co-workers are a bunch of slackers and left me to do all their work."

"I'm hanging up now," Danny said as calmly as possible, disconnecting the call.

The most reasonable thing for them to do – given their lack of clothing, the tight confines of Danny's apartment, and the utter lack of anything edible in the kitchen – was to crawl back onto the bed. Lying on their backs, each being ultra careful to not touch the other man, the two men rested quietly for a few moments.

"I have never done anything so stupid in my entire life," Danny said.

"Really? I would have thought you'd done lots of stupid stuff already."

"Shut up! You and your masturbation-addled brain got us into this mess!"

"Excuse me!?"

"If you hadn't wanted to talk about jerking off we never would have been in that bar in the first place."

"Bullshit! We've been in that bar hundreds of times."

"I hate you."

Steve rolled onto his side to face Danny. "Well, I have dried cum on my belly that would seem to contradict that statement."

"What makes you think it's mine?"

"Because I have flashes of memories of you sitting on my lap, jerking off, while waving something and yelling about riding a wild bronco."

Danny's face flushed several shades of red in rapid succession.

"Steve? Is utter and complete embarrassment a disabling condition? Because I don't think I can ever leave this apartment again for the rest of my life."

Steve thought about the question for a moment before answering. "I doubt it."

The two rested quietly before Steve added another thought. "You are a good kisser."

"Thank you, I think."

"And while we're both already utterly embarrassed and scared for life …"

"Oh, God!!! NO! Now what?"

"Your dick is not bigger than my dick."

"Not at the moment, but I'm sure that when I get hard I out-measure you. No, scratch that. I don't care."

"Well, I do!" Steve said, leaning up on his elbows. "If I'm gonna have to wear this scarlet letter about my dick being small for the rest of my life, I want to be absolutely sure that it's true! Get it up!"

Danny turned toward his boss and said, calmly, "I'm sorry, but I've got a headache."

"Just as I thought! My dick is bigger."

With a sound that was somewhat like an animal's growl, Danny grabbed his dick and started stroking it, never once taking his glare off his friend's face. Within 60 seconds Steve's eyes were bulging with the fact that yes, Danny's dick – when erect – was bigger than his. Never would have seen that one coming!

An hour later there was a knock on Danny's door. Jumping off the bed, a still very naked Danny yanked the door open, "Took you long enough, Chin!" The only problem was that it wasn't Chin. A delighted Kono stood outside Danny's door.

"Hi, sir. I'm collecting clothing donations for drunken, naked, needy cops. Can you find it in your heart to contribute today?"

Danny made a feeble effort to cover his crotch. Steve had given up all hope of recapturing any dignity and simply laid on the bed with his hands behind his head.

"Hey, Kono," he said with no emotion.

"Hey, boss," she said, drinking in the sight of Steve McGarrett naked and seemingly relaxed.

No one said anything for a moment. "So, I don't see it," she said.

"See what?" Danny asked. "There's not much hidden at the moment."

"I can't believe that your dick is bigger."

"Not all the time," Steve explained. "Only sometimes."

"Ok. Probably more than I ever wanted to know," she volunteered.

"Why should I be the only resident of Hell?" Steve asked.

"Ok. I've got some clothes for you in my car."

"That's ok," Steve said. "We've decided to live out the remainder of our sad, pathetic lives holed up here in this place."

"Oh, come on guys!"

"Kono," Steve said, sitting up. "I have written across my back side that one of my employees has a bigger dick than I have. And then below that I have a quote from The Merchant of Venice. And I can't remember how they got there. And then there's the whole bucking bronco thing. No, never leaving here again."

"Would it help if I told you I might be able to help?"

Both Steve and Danny looked hesitantly at their young colleague.

"The reason it took me a while to get here is that I had to stop and buy the solvent to take the paint off. Did you really hold your gun on the cab driver until he went out to buy paint for you?" When she saw the look of horror pass over Danny's face, she added, "But don't worry – he had removed your bullets by that point. He's the sweetest guy, by the way. You two really got lucky." She turned to close the door so she could get to work, but stopped, held one finger up to her lower lip, and added, "And wasn't it lucky for us that he carried a camera with him!"

"Oh, dear, God!" Danny moaned. "Please! Haven't I suffered enough?"

"Apparently not," Kono answered, "since got some freaking awesome shots!"

"Kono?" Danny asked. "Did you bring my bullets back?"

"Yes."

"Will you take your fist and pound one of them into my head right about here?" he asked, pointing to his temple.

"Oh, boys!" she scolded. "Now, who's first?" she asked, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. "I've got to warn you, this might sting a little."

"SuperSEAL goes first! It's all his fault anyway."

Steve didn't object, simply rolling over onto his belly so his back and butt were visible.

Kono tried soooo hard to not laugh, but she finally just gave up and let the laughter roll. When she was able, Kono got to work removing the paint, first from Steve's butt. She kept up a running commentary about how nice his butt was, how firm it was, how his exercise routine had really given him some glorious butt muscles. For his part, Steve only grimaced as the solvent dribbled into very tender places, seeming to eat away at the skin in the process. Toward the end of the process on his butt, Steve was gripping the sheets of the bed with both fists, whimpering.

"Buck up, SuperSEAL," Danny ordered, finally finding something to smile about.


End file.
